Wolf
by Montague Disciple
Summary: What if Romeo wasn't what he appeared to be? PLEASE R&R!


The balmy evening air, cool after the long heat of the day, caressed his skin and he remembered the soft touch of her hand in his. Each breath of the gentle breeze in his hair put him in mind of the sweet kisses she had bestowed upon him earlier, and each footfall in the dusty lane –bringing him ever closer to her – echoed his angel's voice. These memories sent shivers of pleasure spiralling through his form, and a gradual warmth spread from his heart into his limbs. So this was love…He allowed a wide grin to cleave his still-masked face in two as the irresistible feeling flooded his being.

A wall, steep and severe, loomed unforgiving in the dusk. Romeo's grin, impossibly, grew wider – white teeth bared, he quickly clawed his way upwards and was over the top in a moment.

…

Two figures hurried into the lane, their ragged breathing at odds with the twilight's idyll. "Cousin?" A tentative voice called.

A harsh laugh from his companion proved his only immediate answer. This was followed by, "Thou wilt not find him here, Benvolio. The rogue – wise fool, besotted as he is with some new fancy – hath fairly giv'n us the counterfeit, and stol'n away to bed.

"Ay, but not to his own – didst thou not perceive how he ran before us, and leap'd yonder wall into old Capulet's orchard?"

A clever remark was strangled on Mercutio's lips as he glanced upwards at the wall and his eyes took in the full-bellied moon that hung just above. What replaced it was an uncharacteristic exclamation of horror that caused Benvolio, startled, to turn his head in the direction of his friend's frozen gaze. He gave a small groan. "'Zounds, Mercutio, thou art a villain. Wherefore didst thou not remind Romeo of the nature of the night?"

Mercutio seemed momentarily subdued by the scold. "I had quite forgotten 'twas this night," he muttered, scuffing his shoe in the dust. Then his usual spirit flared again and he returned, "'Tis thou who art the villain, Benvolio – wouldst thou waste our time in this idle chatter? Come; make haste, 'ere the cold moon can beasts make of we men."

But as the young men started forwards, the moonlight caught them and they were forced onto all fours in a blaze of silver. Benvolio's eyes, already tinted with amber, locked with the rapidly reddening eyes of Mercutio; both understood what the other was thinking. Warn Romeo. Throwing back their lupine heads they howled as one.

…

Silently he wove his meandering way between the scattered trees of an orchard that had once been fine, but had now fallen into a sad state of neglect. As he picked his way through wild and tangled grasses, the absurd thought that he would move faster on four legs came to him; he dismissed it, but it aroused in him a sudden, burning impatience to be near his Juliet.

Head down now he charged through the orchard, shoving aside roughly any tree that dared hinder him. Several snapped, showering the grass with half-rotten fruit.

It was a relief and a delight when from the darkness above him there emerged a marble balcony, its beauty enhanced by the greater beauty that graced its structure. A tiny figure, no more than a frail silhouette against an illuminated window. Juliet.

His thirsty eyes drank in the sight of his beloved – this precious seraphim who, above all else, loved him as much as he loved her – and, rapt, he slowed his maddened pace. Every particle of his being sang out to see her – but still he was drawn inexorably closer, aching from the urge to take her in his strong arms and protect this innocent creature from the cruel reality of the world. He crept forwards until, almost subconsciously, his hand reached out to twist into the ivy that snaked down in invitation – ivy that could help him here as it had not long before, back at the orchard wall.

There was little to hold onto, but the tough stems would hold his weight if he was careful. Romeo knew this, just as he knew instinctively where to place his hands and feet in the ascent. He climbed as if he was born to it, the awkwardness of a teenage boy replaced with the quick agility and fluid grace of an animal.

He was nearly there – the ruffled folds of Juliet's nightgown were visible through the bars of the balcony – when two dogs in the lane outside howled, a sound so unexpectedly eerie that it startled him. Concentration broken, he lost his hold on the ivy and fell.

Romeo swore, a single syllable of coarse Latin that seemed to him like a silver bullet tearing asunder the fabric of the peaceful night. His flailing hand caught a twisting stem and he gripped the ivy firmly – but he was shaken, more by his own thoughts than the fall he had narrowly escaped. What had put that into his head?

The large eyes of the girl on the balcony widened in shock as they saw him. They were deep and brown and lovely…

…and reflected the light of the full moon.

He screamed as the moonlight scythed through him, racking his body with a crippling agony. Desperately, blindly, he scrabbled for the balcony rail and threw himself over, hitting the marble but not registering the smaller pain. He was aware of Juliet watching in horror as he writhed on the floor, and sought to comfort her – his mouth formed her name, but the sound that ripped from deep within his throat was a snarl. She stepped back in evident alarm.

It had not been dogs, but werewolves that he had heard. Mercutio and Benvolio, undoubtedly, and trying to warn him.

The pain of the contortions forced upon his body, of teeth and claws ripping through his skin from the inside, was nothing to the pain of watching Juliet back away in disgust and fear. But his reassuring words to her only translated as a volley of barks.

A hideous sight, he knew – his eyes a burning saffron, his half-human face warped in a grimace; a body covered in matted russet fur that still, ridiculously, bore the rich garments he had been wearing at the party; blood-flecked saliva dripping from his jaws.

Juliet still edged away from him. He struggled up onto his hind legs and advanced towards her, drawn now by her delicious scent than by any other of his muddled senses.

Human thoughts swam in his sluggish mind and he wanted to sooth her, to calm her; he moved in to lay a hirsute paw on her bare arm, or perhaps to kiss her. Even to himself his intentions were unclear – confused between boy and wolf.

What was clear was Juliet's instant reaction – a piercing scream that shredded his soul, and with it, his human sensibilities. The werewolf in him ruled now, and it was irate.

One powerful stroke, and suddenly the balcony was awash with red. Juliet lay at his feet, her body unmoving save for the crimson that issued in implausible quantity from such a small throat so quickly torn. For a moment, Romeo was human enough to stare at his soaked paw in wonder. Had he really done this?

Before his mind could register the damage, two shapes hurled themselves over the balcony at him. Both hesitated for a moment, took in the scene, and then – without warning - barrelled into him. He was knocked to the floor beside Juliet's corpse. He recognised the amber eyes of the slighter wolf – they were Benvolio's, and pleading the darker, heavier animal beside him (Mercutio, Romeo knew) to stop.

But Mercutio had obviously given himself entirely to his wolf mentality. The scarlet eyes bored into Romeo as the huge animal leapt to his feet and lunged.

Sharp claws raked Romeo's body and he responded in kind, sinking his long teeth into Mercutio's shoulder. Scraps of fabric and clumps of fur rained in a kind of storm as the two fought, Benvolio running in frenzied circles round the pair in an attempt to break up the battle.

It didn't last long. Abruptly Mercutio slumped to the ground, lifeless, already losing his lupine form and returning to his true shape – that of a teenage boy. Before long another human body lay at Romeo's feet.

Now at last human understanding prevailed, and Romeo saw what he had done. His newfound love and his lifelong best friend were killed by his hand and never to rise again; his cousin cowered away from him in fear. Romeo sank to his knees and howled from the bottom of his heart.

Benvolio took off, disappearing over the balcony and into the darkness, leaving Romeo the last living soul on the balcony. But not for long.

Three figures stumbled into view of the window – the lord and lady of the house, and Juliet's nurse. All three stared at Romeo and at the carnage of the scene that greeted them. The two women burst into shrieks at the sight of Juliet, Mercutio, and the creature that stood over them; Lord Capulet drew his longsword and started for the door. They were stopped and silenced by what happened next.

Romeo felt the power of the moon leave his body. A sense of relief - from the form he had been trapped in – surged through his veins, and he reared involuntarily, as if stretching with the last shreds of his inhuman strength. Then he looked at his bloodstained hands – hands once more, and no longer paws – and saw the murders he had committed.

He smiled at Capulet; there was no need for the old man to draw a sword against him. That he could do himself.

Kneeling beside Juliet, he drew his own dagger from his belt and plunged it deep into his heart. He leant over and kissed her once, weakly, before there was nothing more he could do. Gazing at the stars above him – as if Juliet's eyes were among them – he whispered, "Thus with a kiss I die."

Then Romeo Montague took Juliet's small hand, and his last breath.


End file.
